Creed 3: Undercover, page 16
He continued to fuck her but lowered his head enough to roughly suck her nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it and gnawed on it with just enough force to make her scream. Sucking her nipples while rocking in and out of her pussy pushed her completely over the edge.
“Ughhh! Fuuuuuuuck!!” she cried out, not giving a damn who heard.
Donna had never heard such a sound escape her throat. It sounded as if he was performing an exorcism. Still, Lincoln offered no reprieve. He stood straight, placed her legs on his shoulders, and pounded her senseless. Donna went mute, no longer able to speak, or even cry out. Breathing was all she could muster, and her breath was loud, labored and heavy.
“You keep running from me!” he gritted between strokes. “Aghh! Stop. Fucking. Running from me, Donatella!”
His fingers tightened around her hips, pressing into her flesh. Her toes curled as he rode her hard and deep. Sweat dripped from his head to her stomach as his strokes frenzied.
“Fuck!” he cursed, thrusting into her with one last powerful stroke.
Donna’s inner walls clenched involuntarily around his throbbing dick as he pulsated his hot seed into the thin sheath. He blew out a harsh breath and collapsed over her, catching himself with his forearms. He cupped the back her head and kissed her forehead.
“Shit, Donna!” he gasped against her skin.
Donna struggled with her own breathing as she willed her body through the trembles. As they lay there in post-coital exhaustion, the sweet, masculine scent of his sweat mixed with hers.
“Oh my God, Lincoln. You are—”
“Yours,” he interrupted. “I’m yours. And, now you’re mine.”
He slipped his arm under her body and pulled her to the top of the bed. He pulled the sheet and blanket from the corner and lifted her until she was lying on the fitted sheet. He slid inside and tucked in next to her. After covering both of their bodies, he cozied in next to her.
“Sleep,” he told her, kissing the side of her face. Without debate, because she was spent, she did as told. As soon as she relaxed on the pillow and in his arms, she slumbered.
22
Donatella
A loud knock on the door made Donna startle. She gasped. When her eyelids fluttered open, the brightness of the shining sun through a window was almost intolerable. She’d actually forgotten where she was and had allowed herself to get too comfortable.
In an attempt to soothe, Lincoln caressed her face. He placed a finger on her lips and shushed her.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he greeted softly with a gleam in his vivid green eyes.
Donna smiled. She couldn’t help it. The thought of waking up next to him made her.
“Good morning, Colonel.”
Another bang on the door made Lincoln frown.
“Play sleep,” he whispered.
Donna nodded. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her softly on the lips. After granting her one of his disarming smiles, he flipped the comforter off of his glorious naked body and got out of bed. Without covering himself, he walked over to the door and flung it open.
“What?” he barked rudely.
The person clearing their throat in the doorway sounded like it might have been Clara.
“Good morning, Colonel Creed.”
It was for sure Clara. Her greeting came out husky and breathy. Even with her back turned, pretending to be asleep, Donna could hear the woman’s arousal.
“I trust your night went well.”
“Very well, thank you. What can I do for you?”
Clara cleared her throat again. Lincoln’s gorgeous naked body and massive, even when flaccid, dick had to have been driving the woman crazy. If she weren’t playing sleep, she might have chuckled. She wanted to turn around so badly. She’d do anything to see Clara’s face.
“I’m here for Kateri. Prayer service is in an hour. I have some fresh clothing and toiletries for her.”
Donna heard footsteps. Clara had entered the room. She could hear her fumbling with something across the room, but she wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“What is this?”
“Well, it looks like a picture frame,” Lincoln responded sarcastically.
“You’ve destroyed our property.”
“Sue me,” Lincoln scoffed. “You were trying to record me. You people got a lot of fucking nerve!”
“Colonel Creed, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I assure you that we would never—”
“Get the fuck out!”
Donna wanted to cheer him on, but for the sake of what she was trying to do, she held her tongue. She could hear Clara’s footsteps as she hurried to the door.
“Kateri?”
“When I’m done with her, I’ll send her out.”
Donna turned around and sat up when she heard the door slam. “I think I’m in love,” she crooned.
Lincoln sat on the bed and grinned. “All part of my plan, little lady.”
Donna chuckled and flipped the linen off of her own naked body. When she looked as if she was about to get out of bed, Lincoln tackled her to the mattress.
“Where do think you’re going?” he growled against her neck.
Donna giggled while playfully wrestling her way out of his hold. “I have a prayer meeting in an hour,” she told him while trying to keep a straight face.
“Come on, babe. You got time for another round.”
He made the cutest pouty face that made her wanna climb back into the bed. But she had a job to do. Thankfully, he’d run interference the night before, but she had to get back to the mission.
“Oh, how I wish. But we are so close to wrapping this up. And, I am so ready to go home.”
Lincoln bowed his head in compliance and got out of bed. She admired his delicious physique as he gathered his things.
“They got nothing to hold you to your pledge. The Prophet is gonna have a fit,” Donna pointed out.
“Your prophet can go fuck himself!” Lincoln blustered.
Donna walked over to the dresser and grabbed the bag Clara left behind. While he dressed, she went through the contents. Clara had included everything she needed to get dressed. However, everything in the bag was Donna’s, which meant she’d had no problem whatsoever going through her personal effects.
She grumbled quietly and snatched the bag. Lincoln was buttoning his shirt when she walked over to him and grabbed his face. She pulled him down and kissed his lips.
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised.
Lincoln snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I have two questions.”
“Shoot,” she said with a raised brow.
“One, I know your job keeps you away a lot. But when you’re not working undercover, will you consider spending time with me? Giving us a chance?”
With a smile, Donna nodded emphatically.
“Good.” He rewarded her with a peck on the lips.
“And, two…” he waved his hand over his nose. “Is there a toothbrush in that bag?”
Donna smacked him on the arm when he burst into laughter. She pushed him off and headed to the bathroom.
“Get out! I gotta go wash my snatch so I can go and praise the Lord.”
Donna hurried down the hall and pushed through her bedroom door. Since they weren’t allowed to have locks on their door, there was nothing to stop her from surprising Vera. She was wrapped in a towel, wet as if she’d just gotten out of the shower. Whereas Vera may have been a little startled, Donna was out-and-out shocked. Her entire back was covered in bruises. In fact, as she stared, dumbfounded with her mouth wide open, she realized they were actual whips. She’d been whipped.
When she noticed Donna staring, she raised the towel and tried to cover them up.
“Oh my God!” Donna gasped. She ran over to Vera and gently grabbed her by the shoulders. “Vera, who did this to you?”
She shook her head and tried to pull out of her grasp, but Donna refused to let go until she got an answer.
“Who did this to you?” she asked again.
Tears fell from Vera’s eyes and trickled down her pretty face. Since Donna had arrived, it was the first time she’d ever seen Vera unhappy.
She sniffed and blinked excess moisture from her eyes. After swiping a tear from her cheek, she looked up at Donna. “Did you do it last night?” she asked quietly as if she was afraid that someone might hear.
Donna knew exactly what she was referring to, and she’d been through enough. So, she wasn’t about to blow smoke up her ass by playing dumb.
“I did,” she admitted.
Vera's head dropped from shame. “I should’ve just done it.”
“Fuck that!” Donna blurted.
Vera’s head flew up. She looked around the room as if they weren’t alone.
“Don’t use that language!” she admonished in a hushed tone.
Even after everything, she was still a believer. Donna couldn’t remember ever feeling sorrier for anyone in her life. Vera was completely lost, and when the walls around them came crumbling down, she was worried that she wouldn’t survive the fallout.
Donna guided Vera to her bed. She sat, pulling her to sit with her. She looked her in the eye and tried to be as plain as possible.
“I went with that man because I wanted to. I mean…did you see him? He was totally gorgeous. That man they tried to force on you was repulsive.”
Vera was utterly distraught. She shook her head and grabbed Donna’s hand.
“I-I’m so ashamed. I couldn’t even show my loyalty to the Prophet. I’m just grateful they’re not making me leave.”
Donna could not believe what she was hearing. “Vera, you listen to me, and you listen to me good. Your body is not for sale. I know I may look like a hypocrite, but you did the right thing by refusing to sleep with that slob. He was rude, disrespectful, and disgusting. I don’t blame you not one bit. That pig couldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot pole.”
Vera grunted her frustration and swiped another tear from her cheek.
“How did they punish you?” Donna inquired “What did they whip you with?”
“A b-belt,” Vera sobbed. “A big belt.”
Donna was enraged. Not only were they brainwashing women into believing in their shitty cult, but they were also physically abusing them when they weren’t cooperative in their prostitution racket.
“Who whipped you? Was it the Prophet?”
Vera nodded. “Clara tied me down and the Prophet punished me.”
“Ugh!” Donna grunted out of rage.
Vera’s eye widened with panic. “Shhh! Kateri, I’ll be fine. Please don’t make a fuss.”
Donna couldn’t take it anymore. Vera was way too sweet and trusting. She didn’t deserve anything that was happening to her.
She grabbed her by the face and forced her to look in her eye. “Leave this place,” Donna implored. “Just get all your stuff, right now, and leave.”
Vera began to cry. Her head fell on Donna’s shoulder, so she held her as she sobbed. She rubbed her shoulder, careful not to agitate her wounds.
“Vera, leave now,” Donna implored.
“I can’t. This is my home,” she whimpered. “Where am I going to go?”
“Sweetie, this is not your home. This is not your family. Family wouldn’t hurt you like this.”
“Maybe not your family,” Vera quipped.
There it was. Vera was accustomed to abuse from people who were supposed to look after her. Her seemingly broken home life had prepared her to fall prey for people like Clara and Robert Lee Khal.
She grabbed the front of her bath towel and hopped up from the bed. “We gotta get ready,” she pressed with her chin in the air. Vera was doing her very best to feign strength and resilience. What she had no way of knowing was that she was, in fact, a very strong woman. She’d clearly survived familial abuse. Donna was no shrink, but that was quite evident. Vera was simply a woman that needed something to believe in. Had she not been working undercover, Donna would have totally introduced her to her Mom and Dad. They’d for sure show her a better, safer way to worship God.
“Okay. Let’s get ready,” Donna relented.
23
Taylor
“Well, since you’re pregnant and you can’t take anything to help you sleep, try this. When you lie down at night, make sure it’s totally silent. Listen to your breathing and count every time you exhale.”
Taylor nodded. “Will do, Dr. Porter. At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”
“Try telling your husband,” the doctor quipped.
Since the shooting, sleep did not come easy. Because she didn’t want to worry Victor, almost every night, she pretended to be asleep. She’d wait until he fell asleep and sneak out of bed.
“With the election and this stupid investigation, he’s got enough to worry about.”
Dr. Porter uncrossed his leg and leaned back in the chair. “Taylor, I suspect that you’re more important to him than any of that.”
“I am,” she assured with a chuckle. “That’s exactly why I don’t want to bother him. He’ll drop every damn thing, probably try to rock me to sleep every night.”
The doctor laughed as he stood. “Talk to your husband,” he urged.
Taylor stood when he grabbed his briefcase from the table. “What I gotta talk to him for? I got you for that.”
“Mm-hm, okay. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Taylor walked him out of the den and down the hall. “Do you really think it’s necessary for us to meet twice a week?”
“Yep,” he affirmed. “For now, at least.”
Taylor said nothing as she walked him to the door. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need to see him twice a week. So far, she’d only had two sessions. The first session, she’d behaved like a complete nutjob. The second one, she did her best to prove to him that she wasn’t a complete nutjob.
After they said their goodbyes, Taylor closed the door and headed to the kitchen. Emma was wiping down the sink. When she turned and noticed that Taylor had entered the room, she smiled.
“Can I fix you some lunch?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you. I just came to get some juice.” Taylor walked over to the fridge. She opened the door and searched for orange juice.
“We’re out.”
Taylor peeped around the refrigerator door. “Out of what?”
“We’re out of orange juice, only got apple and cranberry. I’ll pick some up from the market later.”
Emma was super sweet. At some point during every day, she did or said something to make Taylor smile.
“You’re a mind reader, Emma.”
“Don’t take a mind reader to know you like orange juice. The fact that it’s all gone is a clue.”
“Makes sense.” Taylor chuckled.
“How was your session with the doc?”
“Pretty good. I’m just glad he came back after I acted a whole fool.”
“A whole fool,” Emma teased.
Taylor laughed and grabbed an apple juice. She closed the fridge and threw a hand on her hip. “You gotta rub it in?”
“I’m just sayin’. I think the Governor was ready to bend you over his knee.”
Taylor laughed, but Emma moved closer. The serious look on her face was anything but funny.
“Your husband has been so worried about you.”
A feeling of guilt washed over her. With Dr. Porter’s help, she understood that she was experiencing some post-traumatic stress. It was the reason she was having trouble sleeping. She’d lost her appetite for food, social events, and even sex. Even though she was positive that she was driving Victor crazy, he had been nothing but supportive and understanding. It wasn’t until she lost her shit that he showed the slightest bit of impatience.
“I know,” Taylor admitted with a sigh.
“You haven’t left the apartment, except to go fishing. You stay in your room most day, and you won’t let your friends visit. After the horrible things you must’ve witnessed, a little anxiety is expected. Just try not to shut out the people who can help you get through it.”
Taylor exhaled and opened her apple juice.
“You listening to me?”
“Yes, Dr. Emma. I’m listening,” Taylor grumbled.
Emma turned and resumed the task of cleaning the counters, done kitchen shrinking her.
Taylor understood. Emma lived under their room. Of course, she knew what went on behind their closed door. Admittedly, she was surprised Emma had spoken to her about it. But she wasn’t mad, and Emma was right.
“You sure you don’t want any lunch?” Emma asked without turning around.
“Nah. But, thanks. I’m going out to lunch.”
Taylor finished her juice and tossed the bottle in the trash can. As she hurried from the kitchen to her bedroom, she went over what she was going to wear in her head.
VICTOR
“It’s only a few points. You still have a slight lead,” Nate Williams, his campaign pollster justified. “This fucking investigation is a menace. But, to be honest, it’s nowhere near a nail in the coffin.”
“Governor, your constituents love you,” Mark Vega, Victor’s chief media strategist added. “I truly believe they couldn’t give less than two shits where your campaign funds come from. Keeping it real, because of Taylor, the black vote is yours. You’re a millennial favorite. You are the semi-liberal Republican that this presidency created. This administration has gone beyond right wing to all-out racist. Your party is still behind you.”
“And…” Carlotta McGovern, his chief media advisor, interjected. “You’re hot. No offense, Governor, but you’re freakin’ hot. You’re locking votes based on that. They could find the Lindbergh baby in your trunk, and women would still vote for you.”
Victor chuckled. Carlotta was amusing. She had a funny way of putting things. She was extremely likable, and had an awesome sense of humor. If they were out, having a beer, he’d definitely enjoy hanging out with her. However, Victor was facing an investigation into his campaign funds. Though he was sure that he was clean, the perception of corruption could cost him the election.
